In 1966, when photographer Nat Finkelstein was photographing the artist Andy Warhol for a proposed book, a crowd gathered, trying to get into the pictures. Warhol supposedly remarked that everyone wants to be famous, to which Finkelstein replied, “Yeah, for about fifteen minutes, Andy.” That’s the anecdotal story (one of few) on how the famous quotation was born: “In the future, everyone will be world-famous for 15 minutes.” Popularity is a dangerous drug, and many crave to achieve it. For most of human history, it’s been reserved for those with a legitimate claim to fame, such as their position in society, political influence, or achievements. Notoriety was just the dark side of fame, as some modern PR experts claim and act on the basis that “there’s no such thing as bad publicity.” The end of World War II eventually led to huge societal changes in the 1960s and the birth of the so-called celebrity culture. Actors, singers and musicians shot to popularity among the masses because they offered a vision of a lavish lifestyle of unrestricted enjoyment, which was very attractive and aspirational to those struggling with postwar austerity on the one hand and the perceived moral shackles of the old world on the other. The latest stepping stone towards the universal popularity of everyone was the dawn of social media, which, on the face of it, democratised access to publishing and broadcasting. Unlike traditional media (newspapers, radio or TV), which are costly to produce, social media offers people a platform to publicly say, comment on, and spread whatever they want, virtually free of charge. Although it’s been a force for good in many cases, two decades later, we also reap the unintended consequences: the proliferation of conspiracy theories, greater polarisation of opinions, round-the-clock cyber-bullying, eating disorders and mental health problems (particularly among young people), a great variety of scam and fraud that goes virtually unpunished; the list goes on and on… Now and again, we hear stories about people whose suddenly acquired popularity turned sour because of either unwanted attention from sometimes dangerous individuals or mental health problems. During the pandemic, I had my proverbial “15 minutes of fame” when I live-streamed Masses on YouTube as a pastoral necessity, not in search of personal glory. One Sunday evening, just before Mass was about to start, I noticed that well over a thousand people had logged in. The pressure I felt was enormous and hugely detrimental. A few weeks later, things returned to normal; I dropped live-streaming with an immense sense of relief and never looked back. Regarding my popularity, my ambition is not to make too many of you dislike me; any positive reaction I will take as a bonus.
“There were so many coming and going that the apostles had no time even to eat.” The mission we heard about last Sunday sparked great interest among the masses. In a world of no social welfare and highly unaffordable and rarely effective medical care, Jesus’ disciples offered excellent service for free: “They preached repentance […], cast out many devils, and anointed many sick people with oil and cured them.” Behind those outdated words hides the rudimentary equivalent of a modern form of counselling, mental health and medical provision. Naturally, having experienced a positive impact on some people’s lives, the news of a universal, wide-ranging and free relief service spread like wildfire and the apostles were inundated with people’s requests. The extent of it was so large that Jesus had to intervene: “You must come away to some lonely place all by yourselves and rest for a while.” Based on the broader context of the gospels, I suppose it might have caused some concern among his disciples, who were keen to enjoy the moment and milk it. However, there was a method in Jesus’ approach to their newly found fame.
Popularity is a potent drug. We all need and seek the acceptance of other people first, and second, we crave a sense of importance or position within the group. The levels of those two needs vary, but they are hardwired in our brains as social creatures. In order to achieve both, we can do a lot of things, some of which are not always sensible. The most straightforward entry strategy is to fit in: “When in Rome, do as the Romans do.” The other way is to offer the intended group something they want or need to buy or bribe them effectively. However, the main challenge is that the acceptance or acquired status rarely remains unchanged over time. Positions of influence shift dynamically. In many situations, permanent active efforts are required to keep the achieved position or climb higher up the ladder. While some people might have the financial means to do so, most of us must use other means. The most accessible is pleasing others. But it’s also potentially dangerous. Let me explain it a bit. There’s a strange mechanism common among people. We initially react with gratitude to charitable acts or aid offered by others. If it continues, we get used to it and eventually feel entitled to it, reacting badly when it’s withdrawn. The welfare system is a fine example of this. Over time, what started about a hundred years ago as a safety net for those in truly dire situations has swelled to a ginormous system that nowadays consumes almost 25 per cent of government spending or 11 per cent of the GDP. Despite the vast cost, complaints about its ineffectiveness form the prevalent mood.
Jesus’ insistence on leaving the crowds behind was to prevent his disciples from developing “the messiah syndrome” as well as becoming crowd-pleasers; the latter attitude would make it impossible later to carry out the demanding and counter-cultural message of the gospel. Jesus knew how fickle the crowds were. One moment, they would try to make him a king by force (we’ll see that next Sunday), only to get increasingly annoyed with Jesus and eventually abandon him, as we will witness over the following four Sundays.
Just as Jesus didn’t manage to please everyone, neither can you. That’s why we must often take a break to discover or reset our priorities, to rebalance the work-family ratio, and to remind ourselves who we really must please and who we can or must ignore. With our limited mental, physical and material resources, we must use them prudently. Although it might help, you don’t have to travel far as Jesus’ disciples did to find a quiet spot to reflect. You can find it in your heart.
